


Sing All Dark and Low

by redqueentheory



Series: I'm With the Band [11]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: (magic ones), Aftercare, Alcohol, Blindfolds, Breathplay, Dirty Talk, Fingers in Mouth, Flirting, Flogging, Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Injuries, Office Sex, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 21:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redqueentheory/pseuds/redqueentheory
Summary: Taako issues a challenge. Brad happily accepts. Taako has a realisation.





	Sing All Dark and Low

Taako is tougher than he looks. It’s not saying a lot, he looks like an elf wizard who puts more effort into haircare than armour upkeep (because he _is_ an elf wizard who puts more effort into haircare than armour upkeep), but if he’s learned anything from these _sessions_ with Brad it’s that he can take whatever Brad can dish out. Likes it, even.

And so the latest appointment goes as he expects - ordered to be silent, laid out over the desk, a precise hand pressing his face against the surface, his breath misting the polished wood. He does as he’s told but can’t resist an impatient wriggle, revelling in the slight twitch of Brad’s lips downward. Stays quiet, even as he shudders through his own orgasm, bites down hard on the gasp which tries to fight its way free during Brad’s.

And when he feels Brad withdraw, turn around to clean up, he rolls onto his back, right on top of whatever paperwork Brad had carefully moved to the side before pressing Taako into the surface of the desk. Flings his arms up over his head. He watches Brad turn back, watches his eyes meander slowly up and down Taako’s body, lingering on thighs and neck and the arms over his head.

“You’re getting soft,” Taako tells him.

Brad raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

He shrugs, stifles a grin when he hears the paperwork crumple with the movement and Brad’s face clouds over slightly. “Iuno. Are you just being nice to me or am I getting used to your bullshit? Hard to tell.”

Taako thinks he sees Brad smile, at that, just a little one; a flash before it disappears again, but he’s looking down as he does up his belt so it’s hard to tell. “Either way,” Brad says, “if I’m boring you…”

Taako narrows his eyes. “That’s not what I said.”

Brad smirks at him. “If you’re so eager to test your limits, pet, I’ve got a few ideas. My apartment. Eight. Eat beforehand.” He waves at Taako, at the full naked length of him, and says, “I’m opening the door to this office in two minutes so you had better be ready to leave by then.”

Taako rolls his eyes coquettishly as he hops off the desk, and uses a full seventy seconds of the time Brad allows him to check his eyeliner, before dressing in a flash and leaving with three to spare, flicking Brad a wave of his hand without looking back at him as he sails out the door.

‘Eat beforehand’, means Taako will be sleeping at Brad’s, which means he won’t be able to get home by himself, which means Brad is going to fuck him hard enough he sees stars. The thought sends an anticipatory shiver up his spine as he raps on the door, dread and enthusiasm warring at the back of his mind.

"Come." Brad's voice is short, even through the door, and Taako feels ridiculous at how the word affects him. His hand is trembling on the doorknob, and his knees feel like molasses as he steps over the threshold, into Brad's apartment.

The orc in question is sitting low in an armchair, legs wide, a book propped on the arm of the chair that he's clearly halfway through, a glass of something glinting amber - whiskey, maybe - in his other hand. He looks back and up at Taako behind him, smiles blandly. "I see you dressed up."

"No, this is the usual," Taako says, keeping his tone breezy with an effort. He’s lying, and Brad knows it - these are dress shorts, dammit - but that's fine.

"Hm." Brad turns back to the book, gestures with the whiskey at the middle of the floor in front of him. "Kneel."

Enough time has passed since the weekend he spent at Brad’s (which his thoughts keep returning to, inexplicably, despite the objectively unsatisfactory ratio of house chores to orgasms he’d had while he was there) for him to have come to terms with the fact that sometimes, _maybe_ , being ‘good’ is worth it. There’s still a part of him that feels - weird, about ceding authority over himself to somebody else, but the rest of him points out it’s not somebody else, it’s _Brad_. Brad, who made him scrub floors and do dishes but who’s got a fuckin’ bombass dick. So.

How to play this. On the one hand, he’s had a lot of luck getting Brad to really let loose on him before by being a smarmy asshole, and it was certainly being a smartass that got him here in the first place. But now that he _is_ here, and Brad is sitting in his armchair all casual and relaxed with his stupid bare feet on the carpet, he’s sure; Brad expects that from him. Wants it, probably.

Tough. Taako is in the business of wrecking Brad’s perfectly good plans. Workplace agility, or whatever the fuck.

He drops his shoulder bag on the floor, walks to the middle of the room and kneels, as gracefully as he can manage. Tongues quickly at the sticky gloss on his lips, there purely to make his mouth shiny and appealing, as the dull thump of arousal starts up in his groin. He stares at Brad, lounging in the armchair, his loose tie and bare feet the only things out of place from his usual office getup. Watches the flex of his throat as he takes a sip from the glass, then sets it down on the side table.

He's still reading, so Taako lets himself stare. Why the hell not.

For some reason the single button undone at Brad's throat sets his pulse racing, makes him want to mouth at the collarbone he can't even see. His determination to frustrate Brad’s intentions is slipping, fading away already, in light of what he _knows_ is a calculated display but can’t help admiring anyway. Even his _sleeves_ , neatly rolled and then pushed up above his elbows– it's not fair that a relatively ordinary Orcish forearm with its shock of black hair should make him want to climb the Orc it's attached to like a tree, but here he is, trying not to fidget as he imagines himself walking - _crawling_ , gods - forward to curl his hands around the back of Brad's knees, slide palms up thighs like fucking marble, lean forward and mouth hotly at his cock through his pants. Wait until he knows Brad's close to breaking, then clamber gracelessly into the chair to straddle him, ask if he can suck a taste of the whiskey off one of Brad's thick fingers.

Christ. He doesn't even like whiskey. This plan has gone completely off the rails.

Brad looks at him over the top of his glasses. "You've been very impudent."

Taako startles for a second - he would have heard Brad cast Detect Thoughts, surely - but then realises he's talking about the exchange in his office earlier today. Looks down at his knees, licks his bottom lip, looks back up through his eyelashes. "I'm sorry."

A small smile plays around Brad's mouth. "You think I can't tell genuine contrition from you trying to play me?"

"Dunno. Never been actually sorry, so how could you know?" he says, then bites the inside of his cheek. _Jesus, Taako, stick with a fucking strategy for more than five seconds_.

There's a flash of something - for a split second Taako is honestly expecting, wonder of wonders, that Brad will laugh, bringing the total times Taako has managed to break through his still facade to two. But he doesn’t, and it’s the same still neutrality carrying with it the same stern promise that Brad is going to take Taako apart, and he can't help another shiver. "So impudent _and_ unrepentant."

He shrugs, no question to answer. Brad nods. "In that case, I want you to be silent. Keep your clever mouth to yourself unless I ask you a direct question, tell you otherwise, or we stop. Do you understand?"

Taako is not unfamiliar with ‘be silent’, as a command from Brad. It’s also not the first time Brad has been so direct about obtaining his agreement. But something about the figure he’s cutting, sitting casually in this armchair, somehow managing to loom above Taako from feet away, makes Taako take a deep breath, swallow down a flare of desperate heat. "Yes."

Brad smiles thinly. "That's good." He hums, another unfamiliar tune, something vaguely dark and unsettling, and Taako is beginning to wonder about the wisdom of this when he realises Brad is somehow dimming the lights of the room.

No. No, the lights wouldn't - dim from the edges-

And then all at once, his vision goes entirely black, and he can't help but swear in surprise.

"I told you to be silent," Brad says.

"What the fuck-"

"That's two," cuts him off, coldly bored. Taako presses his lips together, breathing hard through his nose.

"Much better," Brad tells him. There's a ringing clink of his claws on the glass, the soft noise of his feet on the carpet and a creak in the chair as he moves - straightens? "A reasonable effort, though two slips immediately is regrettable."

The protest is halfway up his throat before he stifles it, and he can hear a small chuckle from Brad. "You're very tempted to tell me to fuck off, aren't you?" He says it the same, even way he’s said everything else, and it somehow makes the profanity worse. It’s still part of this calculated show on Brad’s part, a facade of slow precision. And he can’t see Brad’s face, either; can’t catch the cues he now knows to look for.

The bolshy frustrated part of him wants to take the bait, fling the cursing back in Brad’s face, but he doesn’t. Breathes once, slowly, and presses his lips together. Starts straining to hear, relying on the senses he still has. There's movement in Brad's chair, the soft metallic noise of his belt buckle coming undone, the whir of it being pulled from the loops. He can't help parting his lips again slightly.

The floor creaks under Brad's weight as he stands, and then there’s the tap of the glass back on the coaster, the shuffling of material as he takes off his shirt, throws it over the couch. Taako wants to spread his legs, give himself room, shove the heel of his hand against his cock, pressed up against his fly. He balls his hands into fists on his knees instead, digs his nails into his palms, the sharp nip of sensation grounding him.

He can feel the movement of air and hear the sound of Brad's footsteps moving towards him, and then a hand digs into his hair and he presses back up against it, glad for some contact while he can't see.

"Blindness is an interesting little spell," Brad says, and Taako bites down on a sarcastic reply. "I can maintain it for as long as I like, thanks to the wards." Ah. He’d been wondering about the time limit.

A pause, and Brad pulls up on Taako's hair, a favourite tactic by now, drawing him up out of his kneel with a stifled hiss, then releasing him to slump back down to the floor, not as neat this time. "So. What shall we do first?"

Taako’s mind races, trying to determine whether that counts as a direct question. His throat clicks as he swallows, a whip crack in the quiet.

"No requests," Brad muses. "My choice, then." The sensation of movement, dropping to the floor behind him. Warm thighs, solid, bracketing his hips. A firm chest against his back. He's leaning back into Brad before he thinks about it, pressing the line of his spine up against him.

"That's good, pet," says a voice, gravel, in his ear. "Like that."

Taako lets the praise sink in, tips his head back against Brad's shoulder, rolls his hips to feel the flexing contact. His mouth is open, he realises distantly, pulling in an urgent breath, before Brad's hands slide solidly, in unison, around his hip to press down against his cock, and around his shoulder to press firmly against his throat. He can still breathe properly, but it's a strain.

The hand at his groin tears at the button fly of the shorts, four short _pops_ releasing before Brad's hand curls around his cock, thumbs at the head, smearing. "Eager," Brad comments, in his ear, like it's unexpected to either of them. He lets go and Taako is about to shift his hips in a mute protest until a slippery-tipped finger pushes at his lips. He opens his mouth readily, laps at the two fingers pressing in past his teeth, moaning at the scrape of claws against his tongue.

Brad's thumb and ring finger press solidly into his jaw as the fingers in Taako's mouth curl steadily and press down, Brad breathing softly into his ear, the puff of moist air sending goosebumps down his neck. The hand on his throat is a solid pressure, nothing more.

Fingers disappear from his mouth, reappear on his cock, spit-slick. Taako can't help a strangled noise at the first movement of Brad's hand, a quick and clumsy rut backwards against Brad's abdomen. The hand on his throat tightens, and Taako sucks in a quick and frantic breath, grating against Brad's hand. He feels dizzy, focus narrowing down to the points of contact where he can feel Brad on him, stroking him ruthlessly, cutting off his air. He's squirming and thrusting up helplessly against Brad's hand, desperate to whine; the hand on his throat disappears and he sucks in a grateful breath, moans it out, then yelps as Brad pushes him forward, palm flat between Taako’s shoulderblades.

He hits the floor awkwardly, elbows making contact first with a dull thud; a sudden prickling burn along his arms as they rub roughly against the carpet. Brad’s presence behind him withdraws, his skin suddenly cooler. Taako is still pulling in air, trying to dispel the dizziness, when Brad loops a hand inside the back of the shorts, tugs them roughly down over his hips. He leaves them, a mildly uncomfortable band of pressure around the middle of Taako’s thighs, and says, “Hands and knees.”

Fuck, _fuck_. He's not a fan of this usually; he wants to be able to see Brad’s face, gauge his reactions. It shouldn’t matter, since he can’t see a fucking thing anyway, but somehow that compounds it, makes it even more humiliating. His only option is to focus on how everything feels; he can’t even stare at the flex of his fingers in the carpet as Brad fucks him. Knowing Brad can see _him_ , can do whatever he likes without giving Taako any indication of what’s coming. His mind is racing through all this even as he gets his hands under him, compliant. He hangs his head down between his shoulders, feels the few wisps of hair he’d left artfully loose from the bun tickle his ears, his cheeks.

“You’re going to count out loud,” Brad tells him, voice coming from behind him, to the side. “If you lose track, it resets to zero. Do you understand?”

He does, he does. The trembling of his limbs feels like it’s shaking him apart, but he’s been spanked before. Enough to know how Brad finds his ass irresistible when it’s red, hot to the touch. He might still be able to win this. “Yes.”

Brad says nothing, and for a moment nothing else happens. Taako strains to hear - anything, any sort of giveaway for what Brad is about to do, struggling to focus over the sound of his own breathing, the thundering of his heart. At first there’s nothing - Brad clearly isn’t moving - but finally there’s a tiny, almost imperceptible wet sound, as though he has opened his mouth and closed it again.

And then a metallic clink, and a loud crack. He jumps, nearly forgets himself and opens his mouth to ask - snaps it closed at the last minute. A high whistling noise, and then a searing line of fire along his thighs as the belt hits him.

Taako cries out, unconsciously; moans, as the adrenaline of being hit fades and the pain of the welt starts up, making his skin feel tight and hot, feeding directly into his cock. There’s a pause, and he belatedly remembers the instruction, swallows against the hot, insistent pulse of his heart in his throat, says, “One.”

The whistling noise again, and a second painful stripe directly across his ass. The leather bites into his skin, far less give than Brad’s hand, the stinging force of it focused into a far narrower space. “Two.”

He barely manages to keep himself contained when the belt hits him a third time. His skin is on fire already, and he’s almost certain his knees will give out before this is over. “Three,” he says, and can’t believe how he sounds - reedy, thin.

A soft thud - the belt, hitting the carpet. Brad’s hands are on his ass, suddenly, kneading and stroking, dragging claws through the welts. He hisses, bites down on a moaned protest.

“You look lovely,” Brad coos at him. Runs his thumb roughly between the cheeks of Taako’s ass. “How many do you think you can take?” His voice drips with solicitousness, sincerity. Taako knows his answer will be used against him.

“How many you got,” he chokes out, bites his lip.

The hands on his ass still, pausing for a moment, before Brad says, “Oh, pet.” He runs the tip of a claw along the edge of one of the welts, and it’s all Taako can do not to shout. “I can do this for much longer than you can be smart about it. So I’ll ask you again. How many do you think you can take?”

“Okay, okay fine, gods, Brad, I can’t do more than ten,” Taako babbles, still thin. “Please, gods, it’s so good but it’s so _much_ –”

“That’s good,” Brad tells him, voice even, but there's the smallest quaver to the words and Taako zeroes in on it, this tiniest indication that Brad is just as affected as he. There’s another pause, and Taako knows Brad is about to speak before he does, can hear the small noise of his mouth opening in the silence. “That’s very good. Keep counting.”

Brad moves away, back; another long pause, and Taako wants to squirm under what he’s sure is Brad’s open staring, but the thought of how it might make him look - desperate, wanton - stills him.

Clink, whistle, crack. A line of blistering pain, overlapping the other welts this time, the places where they intersect flashing white hot. He cries out, then manages a strangled “four.”

By the time he gets to seven, his arms won’t hold him up and he collapses forward, face scratching against the carpet, heaving sobbing breaths in between strikes.

Brad asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

He has a momentary flash of panic, moans, shakes his head as much as he can, pressed into the floor. “N-no.”

His whole body trembles in anticipation of blow eight, but he still wails aloud when it hits. Brad moves closer in again, brushes a cautious palm over him, and Taako cries out but doesn’t flinch away.

“Pet. Kitten. This is fine, you’ve had enou-“

“I said ten,” Taako cuts him off, suddenly stubborn, though his voice wobbles. “I want ten.”

Another long silence, and Taako starts to worry through the thousand other things swirling in his brain that he’s said the wrong thing and that Brad has– left. Panic flares, even though he _knows_ he’s being ridiculous, and he manages to bite out, “Brad?”

Brad clears his throat immediately, says, “I’m here.” A quiet breath, just the barest hint, then “Ten. All right.” There’s a definite waver this time.

If he could focus Taako would be frantically committing that tone of voice to memory, but he’s overloaded; the relief that Brad is there hits him in the gut, and the pain of the welts is radiating out across his skin, nerves raw and screaming.

The belt lands for the ninth time, and his legs give out, knees shakily folding underneath him. “Nine,” he croaks out, barely above a whisper.

“Nine,” Brad echoes, and then, “Are you ready?”

“Don’t stall, Bradson,” Taako says. His voice is pathetic, raspy, but it’s still cheek and it still works exactly how all his cheek works - the belt hits him suddenly, forcefully, setting all of the welts ablaze once again. He cries out, dissolves into babbling, hysterical breathing, relief and adrenaline and pain driving everything out of his mind as he chants “Ten, ten, ten.”

Creaking footsteps, and he can feel Brad crouch down beside him, stroke a hand down his back. “Taako. Can you stand?”

He can’t help a nervous, shaky giggle. “Nuh.”

A long pause, while Brad’s thumb moves in slow circles across his spine. He finally says, “Just a moment,” touches the back of Taako’s neck, and stands again. Taako tries to keep track of where he’s moving around the room - hears the clink of the glass again, a metallic sound of it being moved to the sink. A soft papery noise - the book? - before Brad crouches back down next to him.

“I need you to put your arms around my neck, pet,” Brad says. His voice is so soft, gentle, and part of Taako wants to laugh at the irony of it, that he can speak like that after. After this. “Can you open your eyes? I’ve lifted the spell.”

He hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even realised they were shut. He slides them open a crack, immediately shuts them; the low light of the room is too much, even, to adjust to just yet. “Innaminute.”

“All right,” Brad says. “Like this, then.” One of his arms slides under Taako’s chest, curls under his arm, lifts him up to a standing kneel. He distantly knows he should help with the movement, but can’t; he’s boneless and heavy in Brad’s grip, pitching forward to lean against his chest.

The other arm slides around the backs of his thighs, and Brad gives a cut-off little exhalation as he stands, Taako scooped against his chest like a child. He knows in an abstract sort of way that this is humiliating but the effort it would take to protest seems impossibly difficult to muster.

He’s deposited gently on what he assumes is Brad’s bed, pays vague attention to the removal of his clothes, being covered with a blanket. The bed dips as Brad climbs onto it, settling against the headboard, drawing Taako into his side. And then - nothing, just the soft pressure of a hand on his head, the barely-audible noise of pages turning.

There’s something not quite right about this. Taako is sure he would be able to identify it, if he could just get his thoughts to focus, but they’re muzzy, slipping in and out. It just becomes easier to lie there and drift, to let Brad’s slow stroking through his hair keep him half-present, but too relaxed to do anything but breathe.

He’s honestly not sure how long this goes on for. The high slips away so slowly he barely notices it’s gone until he realises his eyes are open and he’s following along with Brad’s novel, reading the words but not really retaining them. He shifts, surprised, and Brad looks down at him, quirks a half smile.

“You’re back.”

“What’d you do?” he blurts out, and then winces with how accusatory it sounds, but Brad just huffs a quiet laugh.

“That was all you. It happens.”

Taako squints up at him. “We didn’t have sex.”

“No.”

“I’m horny.”

Brad raises an eyebrow, perfect and annoying. “I think you need more time to recover, pet.”

“I’m fine,” Taako insists, reaches over to palm Brad’s cock through his pajamas - when did he change into those? - but Brad grabs his wrist, gentle but firm, and pushes it back in his direction. Taako rolls his eyes. “Well if you’re going to be a boring old man I’m going to jerk off in your bed.” He shuffles over, turns to lie on his back, and hisses in pain as his ass and thighs light up from the contact, immediately rolling back onto his side.

“Still fine?” Brad says, ruthlessly neutral.

“Asshole,” Taako mutters, and sighs. “C’mon. What’d I do wrong? I wanna fuck.”

Brad startles, just the shadow of a flinch, before carefully setting his book on the sidetable, folding his glasses on top of it. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Why are you punishing me then?” Taako says, trying not to let the pouty annoyance show in his voice. “En gee ell, Bradson, asking me round to beat me up and not have sex, then letting me sleep in your bed, sure does send mixed messages.”

“It’s not - I’m not punishing you,” Brad says, honestly sounding at a loss. “I didn’t - I’m not going to - you could barely speak, pet. I don’t touch anyone in that state.”

“Yeah, okay, you worked your weirdo flogging magic on me,” Taako says, dismissive. “But I’m here now, and I want. To fuck. I wore my dress shorts. Yeah I know I said they were the usual, you know I lied, come _ooooon._ ” He strokes his hand down Brad’s thigh, over the thin material of the pajamas. “You gotta wanna. You must have the bluest balls ever right now, after watching my ass go all red and then not getting to fuck me.”

Brad makes a small sound, and Taako looks up at him; his expression is carefully schooled but the wildness around his eyes tells Taako he’s scored a very significant point. He walks his fingers up Brad’s thigh, down the crease of his abdomen, and this time Brad doesn’t bat his hand away. “C’mon.”

“Taako…” Brad sighs, rubs at the bridge of his nose. “You should have stopped me.”

“What?”

“It was too much. I could have– properly hurt you. You don’t have to– you can just ask me to stop.”

“Ugh.” He wants to roll away, can’t, settles for pushing his face grumpily into Brad’s side. “I’m fine, stop worrying. It was good, I wanted it.”

“I know, but I–” Brad breaks off, frowns. There’s a long pause, and he doesn’t look at Taako, so it’s hard to know what he means when he says, “I don’t want to _damage_ you.”

He props himself up on his elbow at that, stares Brad in the eye. “Isn’t that the point?”

“It’s–“ Brad breathes a sigh, seems to collect himself. His back straightens. “This isn’t a negotiation. I’m going to be more careful from now on, and I’ll decide when you’ve had enough.”

“Fiiiiiine,” Taako sighs, exaggerated. “Now can we _please_. Have _sex_.”

Brad scoots back, leans wholly against the headboard. “Come here.” Taps his thighs. Taako clambers over him, hisses when the movement strikes up contact with the welts, but he straddles Brad's legs without complaining.

Brad curls his hands around the backs of Taako's knees. "I'm going to heal you."

"Oh, come on," Taako says, indignant. "This was a trap."

"Pet," Brad says, tone brooking no argument.

"Fine! Can you just-" he bites his lip, sighs. "Can you just leave me a bit? I wanna know, when I'm sitting in the cafeteria tomorrow, I want to feel it."

Brad's expression is measured but his grip on Taako is tight. "I will stop short of fully healing you." He starts to hum, quiet and slow, and drags his palms up Taako's thighs, over his ass. The cool, tingly sensation of healing follows in his wake, soothing the burn of his skin, and Taako sighs with relief despite himself.

Brad's hands make another pass, and there's very little pain now; just the sensation of an old bruise where Brad’s fingers press in, which makes Taako shiver. "Good?" Brad murmurs, and leans down and in to mouth at his neck, tracing fangs over the sensitive spot below his ear.

"Y-yeah," Taako says, eyes sliding shut. He wraps his hands around Brad's back, tugs himself in closer. "Yeah, it is.”

Brad bites at his neck, and Taako gasps, eyes sliding shut. Fingers dig into his thighs, encouraging, and he rocks against the grip. Brad’s teeth bite down and Taako can’t help a small noise as Brad goes about the business of sucking a truly impressive hickey into his neck.

He can’t help comparing it to earlier; this is quiet, almost _normal_ but for the way Brad’s fingers dig possessively into tender thighs, a reminder. But all of the arousal that built earlier sparks back to life immediately, and he’s squirming in Brad’s grasp, desperate for more contact.

Brad hums into his skin. “Is there something you want from me, pet?”

“Don’t tease me,” Taako says, pushed to sincerity by how much he wants this, too stripped bare by what’s happened tonight to engage in the game. “I’ll beg if you want but don’t pretend you don’t know.”

Brad shifts against him, and Taako can feel the press of his cock through his pajamas. He doesn’t say anything for a moment - just mouths at the tender spot on Taako’s neck - but finally leans backward, looks him in the face. He cups a hand gently over Taako’s cheek and thumbs at his lips. “I should have used your mouth, tonight,” he says, contemplative, as though he doesn’t know the words make Taako’s blood run hot in his veins. He pushes his thumb into Taako’s mouth, and it’s so similar to what he pictured earlier that he does wonder again about Detect Thoughts even as he’s sealing his lips around it, imagination adding in the bite and burn of whiskey.

“Very pretty,” Brad tells him, hooking the thumb of his other hand in the waistband of his pajamas, dragging them down just far enough to pull out his cock, which doesn’t leave any doubt that he’s just as affected as Taako. Taako watches, sucking eagerly at the finger in his mouth as Brad palms his cock lazily, pulls back the foreskin, swipes his thumb over the head. “I think it’s a bit much, for now.”

Brad withdraws his hand from Taako’s face, and he can’t help a wordless noise of protest which cuts off in a squeak as Brad wraps both hands around his ass, tugging him forward to bring his own cock flush against Brad’s.

“Hands behind your head, pet,” Brad tells him, quiet but leaving no room to argue. Taako links his fingers together at the back of his neck, and Brad gives him an approving pat on the cheek, at once affectionate and demeaning. “Good.” He wraps his hand around both of them, humming as he strokes. Taako shifts his hips, encouraging, as his arms start to ache.

It feels as though Brad has overdone it on the lubrication spell, honestly, but there’s something delicious about how easily his hand slides over them both. Taako balances, leans forward to seal his lips over Brad’s collarbone, a futile effort to encourage blood to the surface - he’s long since learned that Orc skin is highly resistant to bruising. Brad tips his head back anyway, sighs in the way that means he’s repressing a louder noise; his hand moves faster, twists, drags Taako’s cock against his own.

“I did want to fuck you,” Brad tells him, his calm turning ragged in the face of his own arousal. “Your skin turns such a lovely shade of pink, it was difficult to resist.”

Taako turns his head, leans against Brad’s shoulder, says “Yeah?” into his neck before worrying at it with his teeth. “You wanted to just push me down into the carpet, huh? Press my face into the ground with your cock in my ass? I know your speed, Bradson.”

Brad’s hand tightens, minutely, but enough to make Taako jump and gasp. “That’s a lovely picture you’ve painted,” he growls, the sound skittering down Taako’s spine, sending goosebumps racing over his skin. “I’ll keep that in mind, for next time.”

“Good,” Taako says, breathless, the rock of his hips wanton by this point. “I like it when you pin me down, just make me take it– _fuck!”_

Brad’s spare hand pulls where it’s grabbed into his hair. “Now, pet, don’t be greedy,” Brad says, the chiding cast to the words belied by his tone, want bleeding through into the words. “You’ll take what you get, won’t you?” The hand wrapped around him is just short of too tight, the slide of Brad’s hand and his cock so finely balanced between pleasure and pain it makes his head spin. “You do take it so well.”

If Taako were less horny he’d laugh at the line but it goes straight to his dick instead and he finds himself nodding, words spilling out without his input, "Yes, gods, I do, I wanna, it's always so good and you– hah–"

The sentence chokes off as Brad's hand twists and he turns his face into Brad's shoulder, breathes hard into it. The grip on his hair loosens, falls away, as Brad's palm skates down his back as Brad murmurs, "The testimonial is greatly appreciated."

His fingers dig into Taako's ass, setting off a round of twinging, distant pain, before slipping between to press up against him. Taako gasps, starts to lose control of his movement, breathing sharply through his nose. "Next time, I'll be absolutely sure to pin you down," Brad adds, and Taako's not sure if it's the words themselves or the way Brad's low-voiced rumble vibrates through his ribcage but on the next ruthless stroke he comes, convulses, a sigh into Brad's skin going sharp and forceful.

A quick, desperate little grunt slips out of Brad - unintentional no doubt - as his hand speeds up, Taako's cum adding to the slickness. Taako leans up to bite at his ear, whispers "If only you could flog me _while_ you fuck my face," and can't help a small breathless laugh when he feels Brad's cock pulse next to his own, hears him bite down a sound, thick ropes of cum streaking onto Taako’s belly and thighs. He stays leaning against Brad as they both catch their breath, and finally murmurs, "You know I could do that with Simulacrum, right? A Brad/Taako/Icy cold Brad combo, today's hot chalkboard special."

Brad hums, non-committal. "If anything's going to be hitting you I want it to be a person."

"Mr Bradson, is that sentiment?"

"Safety," Brad says firmly, and hums a few notes to clean up the mess. "Speaking of, there's your water," and he nods at a glass on the table on Taako's side of the bed.

Taako’s stomach swoops, uncomfortably. When did he… start mentally assigning himself to a side of Brad’s bed?

"Finish that before you sleep, pet," Brad says, oblivious.

"Yeah,” Taako mutters, grabs absently at the glass, mind racing. He ducks a glance at Brad from behind it, where he's resettling himself with his novel.

Taako has stayed over fairly often, now. It’s not - he’s used to it, knows his way around the apartment. Has flicked through the receipts and manuals on the top of Brad’s desk, has carefully catalogued and washed his glassware, knows where the dust builds up in the corners of his shelves. But he’s very, very careful to keep his things and Brad’s things delineated, and there’s absolutely no reason for him to be getting _proprietary_ about anything. He hasn’t even let himself leave a toothbrush at Brad’s place, which he knows is dumb, but he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge any sort of - his mind shies away from the word _permanence._  Anything more, to what they're doing. Unless he’s naked.

There’s not even anything in the bedside table that belongs to Taako. He’s looked, sneakily, through the drawers on both sides and the most interesting thing he got from it was the jolt of adrenaline from going through Brad’s shit behind his back. On the far side are toys and knick-knacks and a calculator, presumably in case he needs to do some budget forecasting at 2am, and next to Taako, a watch box.

It’s not like Taako’s getting _attached_. How could he? This isn’t a social call, it’s sex. Brad flogged him with a belt and then jerked him off because they were both horny afterwards.

Okay, so Taako might have wheedled that last part out of him. And they had that whole conversation just before about being ‘damaged’ that veered dangerously towards feelings territory. But they don’t talk about anything _other_ than this shit, and they don’t _hang out,_  publicly, which is a boundary _he_ insisted on, sure, but-

He chugs down his water, sulkily confused. “Got training tomorrow morning,” he says, instead of anything more incriminating.

Brad makes a small noise of acknowledgement, eyes on his book.

“Gotta get up early.”

“I’ll be sure to wake you if you oversleep.”

Taako bites his lip. “I just mean. Could… you turn the lights out?” He cringes, internally - it’s not like him to make this sort of request, and it’s not even necessary; he’s fallen asleep while Brad reads before, the light’s no obstacle.

Brad knows all this, because his initial response is just to blink, look slightly taken aback. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” Taako says, too forceful. “I’m fine, just tired, I guess.”

Another hum. “Here.” He puts the book away for the second time, flicks off his bedside lamp, and as Taako’s eyes rapidly accustom to the low light he realises Brad is gesturing for him to- “Come here.”

“Wasn’t asking to be coddled,” Taako says. Laughs awkwardly, a strained, clanging thing.

“I want to touch you,” Brad says calmly. And that sets off the chaos in his head again, because honestly? Really, Bradson? He just _says_ it, so casual and easy, demands from Taako a kind of simple intimacy that absolutely does not sit comfortably with whatever this is.

There’s a part of him sneering internally at how pitiful he’s being as he scoots forward obediently to lay his head on Brad’s chest.

“Go to sleep,” Brad tells him, and thumbs gently at his temple. “You’ve been very good.”

The warmth of another person has Taako’s eyelids drooping already. He manages “I’m fuckin’ trying,” but he misses whatever Brad says in response.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the team for their encouragement on this one, and the super fast beta.
> 
> Title is from The Audreys' [Oh Honey](https://youtu.be/13zr96nscfU).


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